


She Swore By The Moon

by tiffthom



Series: The Priestess and the Demon [3]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Light Angst, Relationship(s), Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiffthom/pseuds/tiffthom
Summary: Kikyō had grown weary -- to be resurrected to a life, but have no place. Sesshōmaru wasn't sure of their beginning, but he had an idea concerning their end.





	

* * *

 

Sesshōmaru did not venture to the unknown. The journey wasn’t inviting, and it left his senses dull. Ambiguity wrapped around Kikyō like a serpent, and true to form, she slithered past his defenses, taking up residence somewhere between his good sense and dangerous proclivities. _This is what he told himself again and again._

He smelled her before he heard her rapping at his door, and her essence mingled with the vestiges of his frustration. _Damn her._ He’d wasted the better part of the day picking her to pieces in his mind, building a case for her unworthiness. A human woman wasn’t enough for him. Each time he arrived at one of her flaws, he’d pinch the bridge of his nose, then join both of his hands like a praying man. Even his gestures had suffered under the magnitude of her.

He thought to ignore her, grant himself some kind of reprieve, but it felt too much like running away, and _he was never scared_. In the end, he’d failed to come to a conclusion for this… _situation_.

“Yes?” He turned toward the door.

Kikyō entered and her feet didn’t make a sound. Surely, the witch had employed the same undetectability to throw him off-kilter.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I have grown weary, Sesshōmaru. This is no place for me. I wanted you to know that I’m leaving. I thought it at least common courtesy to tell you given your generosity.”

Her words were at his neck, choking him. He’d slandered her since dawn, and there she stood, providing a remedy for his ailment, but his tongue was overweight with bitterness. The reasons for these unfamiliar and useless emotions came within his reach, but each one fell out of his hands like sand yet again. Something inside of him pulled and tugged like he was being torn from the center, and he dismissed the urge to slam a fist into the wall. Hot blood didn’t run in his veins. Moonlight spilled into the dark room casting a shadow over much of his face, but his fangs gleamed, and she smelled like dried up blood.

This woman was leaving him, and something akin to pride thumped in his chest. This isn’t what the end looked like in the midnight hour when he dreamed of her bony fingers ghosting over his limbs. This isn’t what the end looked like when he awoke and her presence was down the hall and to the right instead of near the crook of his neck with an arm lazily resting on his chest. He hadn’t an idea in heaven nor hell what the end looked like exactly, but it was not _this_.

“You could have slipped away and I’d be none the worse for it, Kikyō.”

He had a strength to him that Inuyasha lacked, and she liked the coldness. It matched her own. She promised to mirror it even in saying goodbye.

“Very well,” she said.

She reached for the door handle, and time accelerated at a dizzying pace. His memory became as sharp as ever, and the finer details of their first meeting flooded in. She had saved Rin, and neither fear nor any of its close relatives were in her eyes. She was bold, and it was _inhuman_. Humans were frightened things that clung to the lies they gorged on because the truth was too much. She intrigued him that day and captured Rin’s heart, and the rest was too easy. One foot crossed over the threshold, and the other almost made it before he came to her side.

“They almost killed you. Have you forgotten?” He recalled a pack of demons that attacked her, hoping to overwhelm her with numbers after one of their comrades had been the victim of the ruthlessness at the tip of her arrow.

“What? Are you implying that I need your protection?”

“You did that day.”

The wood of the door splintered when he shifted his weight against it. She laughed. He’d never heard it before. Her chuckles echoed down the hall, and he grit his teeth.

“The Great and Mighty Lord Sesshōmaru of the West has taken pity on a phantom. You really ought to get rid of that sword. I spy a speck of its uselessness in your eye.”

Kikyō used up the day fishing with Rin, and resting on rolling hilltops of velvet grass, pondering her predicament. Her bones sung a booming melody of fury. She’d caught herself looking lovingly at Rin and thinking of Sesshōmaru, wondering if it could always be that way. Vulnerability, even in fleeting speckles, would not be her enemy a second time. As long as Naraku infected the land with his sickness, she had a goal, and she needed to live a little while longer. One son of the revered Inu no Taishō had already been used as the instrument of her destruction. She’d be a fool to let it happen again.

Kikyō spoke the truth, and Sesshōmaru hated her insight. Ever since she’d come back with them, _Tenseiga_ had all but jumped out of its sheathe. It pulsed restlessly, but there were no emissaries of the underworld about her. Just death. Tōtōsai said his heart was changing, and nothing had ever been more humorous. Her laughter made perfect, ugly sense.

“Kikyō, you are a fool. Priestess or not, you’re just a human. Stay out of it. Naraku is mine.”

“How entitled you are to pursue someone else’s prey.”

“I do not want you foiling my plans for him.”

“What is it that you want, Sesshōmaru? Do you want to care for a human child, or do you want to surpass your father because, hear me when I say, you cannot have both?”

Her regret was bubbling over. She couldn’t live as a normal woman and she couldn’t die one either. When a fork lies ahead, only one path is possible. Taking two means turning back at some point, and even though she looked as youthful as the day she died, she would never turn back.

“It was a serious question.” She found herself again. “What do you want?”

He looked away, and she moved closer.

“Do you long to turn me to ribbons and sup on my flesh? Or do you have this fantasy in mind that you and I are partners? Which is it? Remember. You cannot have both.”

Sometimes she wanted to die again, and she wanted it to stick. In seconds, her windpipe hummed against his hand, and her back touched the wall. He’d moved so smoothly, and caused her not a bit of harm, but she felt like she was flying. The fingers from one of her hands played at his wrist while the others slid along his newly restored arm. He was so close to her face that it took a moment for her vision to adjust so she could see him clearly.

“Weren’t you leaving?”

It was time to burn the witch.

* * *

Sesshōmaru’s grip tightened, perforating into her hidden depths, and Kikyō wondered if she’d ever been so exposed. Even scattered as ashes and concealed within the earth after falling as the shameful memory of a feeble woman didn’t crack her open and reveal her secrets the way he did. She’d died with their eyes on her, the trust of so many that she maintained faded away each time her chest caved in as a pitiful act of protest to keep her certain death at bay. She was the shadow of her former glory and promise; a priestess sullied by the affection of a demon.

_No, he wasn’t the real thing._

The real thing sucked on her clit, and made her spill for his sustenance, threatening to render her as dry as the Bone Eater’s well. At first, his eyes scorched like summer without water or a breeze, and illuminated all of her shortcomings. They made evident the cruel way that death only held her in one of its arms, but _he wasn’t afraid_. He didn’t regard her with Inuyasha’s look of pity, making her feel similar to some broken and battered thing. No, he ravished her like miners digging for jewels, working to reach something precious. Her past had little significance in this swallow of time with him.

His tongue traced over her wetness with the feather-lightness of a brush carefully capturing just a little bit of color or ink, but it was all merely the prelude to his mouth breaking down her chill with its heat. He stabilized her with a hand, gripping her stomach, and continued pressing his lips and tongue into her, seldomly coming up to breathe. She never ceased being a mystery. To smell of craggy bones and dirt, but to taste like the only thing that could ever satiate his appetite… _Kikyō_.

Was this the trickery of a woman at its finest?

She smelled like the need to be someone else, to be alive again, but he’d shoot electricity through every orifice until her mind blanked, until every foolish regret that humanity debilitated her with faded from her consciousness.

This scent…

His tongue continued to dance and sing praises over her, alternating between long, dragging licks and here-and-there flicks. She thrashed and pulled as he continued to act out his unkindness. He really did hate her. He kept a firm hand on her as her body rolled, and _something shifted_.

There was a tug in his heart, and his blood pumped fiercely, making his skin tingle. He shook his head at the intense clanging in his eardrums, and growled. The whites of his eyes flashed crimson. No high like this existed, not even amongst the stars.

“Please,” she said weakly.

Her desire called him back to his senses. She needed to be devoured and taken up as far as he was.  

“No.”

He moved back a few centimeters, earning an incredulous huff. Her eyes tore into him and he smirked at the anger in them.

“Why must you tease me?” She demanded an answer.

“Silence.” He commanded so close to where he’d dined on her, eliciting shivers from her. “Take a deep breath and then a shallow one. Do it slowly and repeat it slowly.”

Against her better judgment, she complied. She had no business letting a demon unravel her. Had she forgotten about losing her life? But the way she lived under the caress of his fingers, the spell of his tongue, and the sensation of his breath – she was depraved to the point of no return already so no harm, no foul.

She continued to breathe as he instructed, not understanding the purpose until he reunited with the sensitive bud he’d abandoned. She winced as he covered her with the flat of his tongue and languished over the hood.

“Keep breathing.”

It was different. With each varying breath, she was submerged by new waves of pleasure and her body jerked more violently. She felt the front of his teeth against her. He was smiling. To hell with him and his arrogance, _but not yet_.

He picked up the movements of his tongue, pulling from her, disgusting sounds completely unbecoming of the renowned Lady Kikyō. She’d resisted the urge to grab him at first, but she was being rushed downstream, approaching a waterfall. Finally, she drove her hands into his hair and tugged his silken locks. A new perception arrested her. The softness of his hair was like mink at her fingertips and hands, zapping more of her control, but she couldn’t let go so soon. She maintained her pattern of breathing until she mistakenly inhaled too deeply and shattered into pieces she’d never recognize again.

“Sesshōmaruuu, ah! Ah!”

He didn’t stop. His tongue insisted on dragging her down the waterfall but only he drowned.

She twitched and he let her recover. As her mind reassumed the semblance of togetherness, the initial moments came back to her in segments. He’d whispered something in her ear, and the spell was cast. Quickly, they became an ensemble of tangled arms and finessed movements toward his bed. He was nauseatingly graceful and she almost couldn’t keep up. Something inside of her expected the rough and tumble of Inuyasha despite knowing how his elder brother operated.

Sesshōmaru took heed as she adjusted to the newness of the world, and he hoped it seemed brighter to her. She’d walked in a fog, shackled by her duty as a priestess, and hadn’t learned how to capture a handful of stars and fling them out of sight just for the sake of amusement, but he’d show her. With each passing breath, she had more and more of what it took to walk beside him, but he wasn’t done. This was but the grassroots of his conquest. He moved from the bed, and stood fully after sucking his fingers clean of her. For an instant, his body was a shadow with just silvery tresses and eyes like the sun absorbing the dispersed rays of light.

He stripped himself bare and she watched, hardly able to still the quivering of her legs. Being solely at his mercy started to seem unfair, and Kikyō sought recompense.

“Touch yourself.”

Her plans for control turned to mush at his request. She blinked a few times, unsure if she’d heard him. He moved forward and leaned down, slowly meeting her face to face again.

“I want to see you.”

A touch of pink spread across her cheeks, and the sight caught him off guard. She was truly stunning. His lower body began to ache.  

“Sesshōmaru, I –”

“Show me, Kikyō.”

Her hands glided over the top of a thigh and between her legs. She was running like a slow-dripping tap. She swirled her juices, stealing a few more seconds to think about her actions. With Inuyasha, they barely looked at each other, and there were only silent embraces afterwards. But Sesshōmaru stood with his arms crossed, wearing a pensive glare. She hesitated and couldn’t pinpoint a reason. There was nothing to be ashamed of especially now.

The tingling from her orgasm had subsided so after a little while longer of considering how low she’d gone, she rested her head again and looked his way. His gaze never faltered. He almost looked through her. When he moved into it, the light peeking in at them helped her see the definition of his body. Her eyes rested on the sinewed shape of his chest and collarbone. The pit of her stomach became weightless and she snapped her eyes shut and brushed herself. She arched at the sensitivity, and his eyebrows peaked slightly. While alive, she denied herself the pleasure of exploration in some uneducated attempt to drive an ocean’s breadth of distance between herself and any unrighteous desires. This was the result of unwarranted restriction; performing private shows for demons. Each time she pumped her fingers in and out and moaned for him, she banished any poise and respect she previously held to the lowest rungs of hell. She’d been cold for so long, and couldn’t be bothered to muster an apology sincere enough to account for how much she was starting to crave this seduction. She rather liked being aflame, claimed by his crackling embers.

Kikyō imagined his mouth on her again, and found a rhythm as she continued to stroke her body, trapping her folds between her fingers and swirling around her entrance. Delicate whimpers came out of her, making the back of Sesshōmaru’s neck itch. He used the band on his wrist to pull his hair away, and her eyes opened again. The sight of his face unmeddled with flipped another switch in her. He was more handsome than already established. She kept her sights on him, and his hands trailed down to his length. Nothing in his eyes changed. He continued to look at her casually.

“Curse you,” she rasped.

“Hmm” was all he had to say.

He noted that she enjoyed slow, agonizing strokes more, and he didn’t mind. He possessed an eternity of patience to oblige her. She returned to the place where her breathing had gone off the rails earlier, and slowed it like he’d instructed, staving off the climax that lurked. Throbbing heat rested heavily in his hand, but he kept the majority of his attention on her.

“When it comes, it’ll be stronger if you keep taking your time.”

She found his level of calm entirely offensive, but she listened. Her pleasure dipped and peaked, going in too much and out just enough, and she couldn’t stand it anymore so she took one last deep breath, reducing herself to a trembling mess as another stupefying instance of pleasure came down – this time, like a landslide. She liked that it had more power than what he’d done to her.

Sesshōmaru made his way to the side of the bed and she turned, head hazy, and seeing splotches of magenta and violet each time she closed her eyes for more than a second. His erection, at such close range, made her scoot back abruptly, and her mouth watered. He hiked a leg over the bed and she moved a bit more to make room for him. She rested her fingers at the corner of her mouth, a little taken by her own scent and taste. It’s like he’d breathed new life into her with his kisses and imparted warmth to her bones with each caress. The devil had first been an angel of light.

He stood on his knees doing nothing. How did he end up in such a situation with this woman? He empathized with his father begrudgingly, and he kept a short leash on the anger for Inuyasha that churned within him. That idiot half-breed had known her first, and it may have been psychosomatic, but Sesshōmaru swore that little traces of him still lingered on her. However, he had a fix for it. He looked at her, and her eyes were soupy, overcast with need. She’d hate being at the center of some pissing contest so he vanquished his final thoughts about Inuyasha, and quickly caught on to the way he considered her feelings. He cursed _himself_ this time.

Kikyō tried to stop staring at how hard and erect he was, but an unusual desire took over. She inched near him and rose to her knees before him.

“This is madness,” she said.

“Your point?” he quipped.

In a fluid motion, she turned and put him on his back. She settled between his legs, and crouched, taking him into her mouth before he registered what happened. Against his will, his eyes almost closed and his head sunk into the pillows. His fingers yearned to embrace her, but he needed to take hold of himself first. Her tongue was cold and complemented the blistering swell of him.

“Damn it all,” he whispered. “Kikyō.”

Had he felt this way when she called his name; like the world crashed all around and rebuilt itself from nothing but a single, spoken word? Moisture dribbled from her mouth onto him and she used her right hand along with it to pump him. _Who was she now?_ Before, she’d blushed like a schoolgirl, but now as he looked down to see her head bouncing to no rhyme or rhythm, he realized that he’d underestimated her. He’d let himself be wrong about this one thing.

She sipped him, taking in his smell and taste. He was salt and sugar at once, and swallowing him put her outside her wits. How was it so _perfect_? Big, but ideal for her mouth. Smooth, making her aware of the rigidness of her taste buds. How was she so _skillful_? The perfect level of pressure resided in her hands and mouth, and things started to fade to blinding white. She removed her hand and inhaled all of him, and he propped himself up on his elbows to bear witness. In sync, she looked up at him and he fell back again.

“Woman…” he breathed.

“Kikyō,” she corrected, tearing pleasurable vibrations into him with the power and proximity of her voice.

He’d had enough. The emptiness of her womb called out to him, and he wanted to live in her until the morning. He pressed his palm to the side of her head and she looked up again.

“Come here.”

His voice had never been so gentle, and it put her in a trance. She walked over on her knees, ready to straddle him. With mutual cooperation, he pushed into her slowly, and her head snapped back. She spread open like petals, and the feeling put a weight on his chest. Once she’d accepted the full length of him comfortably, they remained there in a plane of existence where only they dwelled.

They searched, in each other’s eyes, for the reasons they had not found elsewhere. His pulled her in, revealing pupils dilated and abysmal, but decorated with stardust. Hazed over with lust, his eyes were the warmest they’d ever been. All the potential outcomes she’d imagined for her life occupied his gaze, and she could neither regret the last forty minutes nor the several months she’d spent under his roof. She couldn’t keep denying that she felt alive again.

In hers, he found more questions. He challenged the rule he adopted that said he had to be alone, and a lump of unresolved issues wedged in his throat. The family he’d wanted with his parents had never been more than a dream so he digested the hard truths of ‘nothing ever lasts’ and ‘what’s the point?’  at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But here, in the space he shared with Kikyō, his discarded desires seemed tangible. They were in the small of her back and the curves of her breasts. He questioned if the culprit for these buried feelings resurrecting was the fool he’d been or the one he’d become.

He attempted to speak first, but she took his lips and kissed him breathless. His mouth trailed from hers, down her neck to her breasts, suckling one while kneading the other as she strangled the covers at her sides. Slowly, she began to ride him and he moved both of his hands to her hips and lied back. A cheeky grin pulled at the edges of her lips and he closed his eyes. The feeling of her walls hugging him and the sound of her wetness were safer than her smile. He massaged her hipbones with his thumbs and groaned from the sensations mad-dashing from his head to his heart.

“Sesshō… maru. Se… sshōmaru,” she panted, disoriented by the slow shift of the earth underneath them.

Everything was brilliant. Her heart ran laps and the room seemed like an illusion as he pulled her higher, catching her up in a paradise neither of them deserved. As she ascended, and gravity was debunked as a silly myth, he adjusted his position by a fraction to penetrate her more deeply, and committed the way she whined to memory.

They kept on until she grew tired of the steady pace, trading it out for speedier, classless bouncing. He was the nobleman, not her. His legs numbed, forcing him to feel this ecstasy in only one place.

Sesshomaru yearned for release, but being impetuous hardly every yielded satisfaction so he’d wait and leave it to Kikyō. She was fading fast but refused to call an end to her ecstasy, and he believed. He knew if she’d just hold out, she would abandon this ridiculous idea about leaving. Earlier, she’d asked him what he wanted and the answer revealed itself once he tasted her mouth. _He wanted everything_. Power. The West. And for the chaos under his roof to stay just as it was.

Streams of sweat poured down her back, making her hair cling to her. She leaned in and placed her hands on his chest for more control and slowed down. His need calmed, ebbing away gingerly so she could build him up again when she saw fit. He pushed her sticky hair behind an ear and let her continue to work. She came down and nipped at his neck.

“Sesshōmaru.”

“Kikyō.”

“What do you want?”

“You really want to know?”

He rose and pushed her back, going inside her as far as he could, and his name fell from her lips like desperate prayers. He dragged a claw across her neck before grabbing it with both hands. She bared her teeth, forcing out a throaty laugh. Of course, she liked it. He chastised himself for being surprised. He continued forcing the breath from her lungs, relishing how wet she became. She found the strength to wrap her legs around him before she neared the loss of consciousness. Before it could happen, he came like he never had before, and she clamped around him tightly. Sweat dripped from his bangs onto her face as he removed his hands, and growled out his pleasure through clenched teeth. She gasped, crushing from the intensity of her own undoing, still struggling to breathe again, but contentedly vibrating under the influence of him. When she no longer shook, he pulled out of her and fell back. When it was calm, he reached out and took one of her feet, idly playing with her toes. Kikyo snatched her foot and moved, finding a comfortable place next to him.

“This is quite the predicament,” she commented.

He sucked his teeth and slid his forefinger down her back.

“ _You_ are quite the predicament.” His lips pressed into a flat line as he relived the whirlwind that was their last few moments. Before they fell into each other, she was leaving, and it didn’t feel right to him. The present situation didn’t necessarily feel right, but it pleased him more than her absence. “Are you still weary, Kikyō?”

She looked up at him, pondering her answer.

“I am. You’ve depleted me, and now I need rest, but I should not be weary when I awake in the morning.”

It was the best answer she could give, and it was enough for him. It was more than enough.


End file.
